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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169033">Highway Drift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoutIntoTheVoid/pseuds/ShoutIntoTheVoid'>ShoutIntoTheVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But also, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Claire Novak's Parents, Communication, F/F, John Winchester Bashing, M/M, No explicit mentions of abuse, Parent Dean Winchester, Post-Finale, The romantic ships are in the background, What Finale?, and CBGB, but - Freeform, featuring the gay nuns, this is centered around Dean and Claire bonding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoutIntoTheVoid/pseuds/ShoutIntoTheVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When both the weather and a flat tire conspire to keep Claire from returning to Sioux Falls, Dean picks her up to stay the night at the bunker. On the way they talk and build some understanding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak &amp; Dean Winchester, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Highway Drift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW: allusions to abusive behavior, but no actual abuse is detailed. Allusions to homophobia but again, nothing is explicit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not the kind of thing she would say out loud, but Claire’s always really loved winter. Not for any of the standard reasons either. She has few fond memories of the holidays, and those usually just make her sad. It’s the season itself, the weather really, that she’s always been fond of.</p><p>She remembers being eight and cutting snowflakes out of printer paper, her third-grade teacher going on some spiel about how no two snowflakes are alike—twisting it up into a big metaphor about how people are like that too, all unique in their own way. It wasn’t until later as she waited for her mom to pick her up after school that she really got it.</p><p>It had started to snow, and as Claire stuck a bare hand out in the air a single snowflake landed on her palm. She watched it melt, the shape of it yielding to the heat of her skin, and that little act of destruction made her feel powerful. But as more snow fell around her, she also felt very small. She could devastate a single snowflake, raze a whole bank of snow even, and it would still keep falling, each new piece as singular as the last.</p><p>For a glimmer of a moment, in her eight-year-old mind, she finally understood what her dad was always preaching about <em>the miraculous</em>. Even on the brink of her first existential crisis, it was nice to feel like she achieved some grown-up understanding all on her own.</p>
<hr/><p>It was early February when Claire looked blankly out the passenger window of the Impala to snow starting to fall. She still quietly delighted in it, even after all of these years of brutal midwestern winters, and was contented to silently watch the scenery change as passing cars got dusted like beignets. Little snowflakes began to stick to the window, and she could sometimes even make out their shape before the heat of her breath on the glass caused them to melt. Two flakes got stuck an inch apart, and as they melted Claire mentally made them race to the bottom.  </p><p>“You having fun there, kid?” Came a bemused voice to her left. If he weren’t driving, Claire might have forgotten Dean was there.</p><p>She didn’t look up, “Just zoning out.” she said, watching as the left snowflake won.</p><p>They’d been driving for a few hours by then. Claire was heading back to Sioux Falls from a solo hunt in Kansas City when Jody called to tell her to stay back for a couple days. Some blizzard was coming through that would be too dangerous to drive through, and before Claire could even think about ignoring the good advice, her car popped a tire. Hence sitting shotgun with Dean.</p><p>“Yeah?” he said, “Well humor me, we still got a couple of hours left before we’re at the bunker.” At the rate he was driving, they’d be in Lebanon by dinner.</p><p>Claire pealed herself off the window and shifted to face him. “So?”</p><p>“So,” Dean gestured with his fingers, palms still stuck on the wheel. Claire could hear the low rumble of the radio playing a song she didn’t know, “So talk.”</p><p>“About what?” She raised a brow, and he knew she was just being difficult.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes, “tell me about the hunt.” he insisted, “Jody mentioned something about werewolves?”</p><p>“You want to know about the hunt?” Claire needled further, just because she could.</p><p>Dean let out an exasperated sigh and shot her a look.</p><p>Claire laughed, “Okay, okay.” She pulled a knee up to her chest and leaned back, “I’m just messing with you.”</p><p>“Giving me grey hairs more like.” he mumbled.</p><p>“Do you want to hear the story or not?” she snapped, indignant.</p><p>Dean waved at her to continue.  </p><p>“Anyways,” she says between her teeth, “So, there was this pack of werewolves out in KC disguised as cheerleaders. For the most part they’d been blending, and doing a good job of it,” She sighed, “but then they decided they needed to find mates. They started targeting boys to turn.”  </p><p>“If I had a nickel…” Dean muttered under his breath and Claire rolled her eyes.</p><p>“They were trying to grow their pack,” she explained, “but they were young and inexperienced and instead of turning their captives, they kept killing them.”</p><p>Dean nodded along, “So what, you found the pack and iced the lot?” he asked.</p><p>Claire nodded.</p><p>“How many we talkin'?”</p><p>“There were eight total.” she shrugged.</p><p>“Eight?!” Dean exclaimed.</p><p>“Yeah eight.” Claire snipped back defensively.</p><p>“And why the hell didn’t you call for back-up?” Dean pressed. </p><p>“I had it handled.” Claire said coolly.</p><p>“Y’know just because something starts a solo hunt doesn’t mean it needs to end that way. Taking on eight werewolves alone was a stupid move.” Dean huffed and looked angrily at the haze covered road.</p><p>“I’m a big girl and I took care of it.” Claire snapped.</p><p>“You’re a <em>kid</em> and you got lucky.” Dean bit back.</p><p>“I’m twenty-three!” Claire cried incredulously.</p><p>“Yeah well since you keep reminding me how old I am, let me tell <em>you</em> something,” Dean took one hand off the wheel to point at her, “twenty-three makes you barely old enough for training wheels, let alone a solo hunt this dangerous. Hell, <em>I</em> wouldn’t even take on eight werewolves alone.”</p><p>“Oh bull-fucking-<em>shit</em>.” Claire rolled her eyes, “I know for a fact you’ve been solo hunting since you were in diapers.”</p><p>Whatever remark Dean was winding up with died on his tongue, and in the silence all that could be heard was the steady <em>whoosh</em> of the window-wipers brushing off snow mixed with the low din of whatever was on the radio. Claire still didn’t recognize it, she hadn’t the whole trip. She looked out the passenger window once more and felt her mood sour further when she could no longer make out individual flakes on the glass. It was really picking up.   </p><p>“I was seventeen.” Dean’s voice, though infinitely calmer, made Claire jump in her seat.</p><p>“What?” she turned back to him.</p><p>“My first solo hunt,” he explained keeping his eyes steadily forward, “was on my seventeenth birthday. My dad sent me.”</p><p>Claire didn’t know what to say, so she blurted out, “So no diapers then?”</p><p>Dean huffed a laugh, and the corners of Claire’s mouth quirked up at the sound.</p><p>“No diapers,” he shook his head, “but I was sure a little shit.”</p><p>Claire laughed but it came out like a scoff, “So what was it? Werewolves? Vamps?”</p><p>Dean shook his head slightly, “Ghosts.”</p><p>“How many we talkin'?” She parroted his earlier tone, pitching her voice low and gruff. It sounded ridiculous but for a second Dean thought that maybe that’s just how he sounds.</p><p>“Just two.” Dean swallowed hard. He paused, but Claire could tell he had more words rolling around in his mouth. It was like he was waiting to make sure they’d come out right. Either he decided they would or gave up on trying.</p><p>“They were nuns,” he said carefully, “who’d fallen in love.”</p><p>Claire’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but she said nothing.</p><p>Dean glanced over at the passenger seat but didn’t meet her eyes, “They’d been found out and killed themselves.”</p><p>The simplicity of his words could make them seem flippant or curt, but as Claire looked over at Dean, at the tense way he held his jaw and the flex of his hands against the steering wheel, they just felt heavy, like it took so much effort for Dean to say even that much.</p><p>“Were you scared?” Claire asked in a quiet voice not her own.</p><p>Dean licked his lips, “Terrified.” And then he did meet her eyes, if only for a moment. As he turned his gaze back on the road he said, “But not just about the nuns.”</p><p>Claire crinkled her brow, “What do you mean?"</p><p>Dean drummed his fingers nervously on the wheel. He knew he’d said too much, but he’d never actually said any of it out loud before. He’d gotten this far… <em>Screw it</em>.</p><p>“Have I ever told you the story about my old man pulling me out of CBGB?” Dean asked.</p><p>After a moment of whiplash, Claire remembered to roll her eyes, “Ugh, yeah, ” she groaned, “I’ve heard it, like, a billion times.” She’d heard it maybe twice but that was beside the point. “It’s one of your go-to awkward childhood stories that you think sounds cool but is actually just kind of sad.” </p><p>She’d meant it as a joke, but Dean winced.</p><p>“I’m just joking Dean,” she tried to keep her tone light, even though she had no idea where this was going or why they’d taken this particular detour. “You can tell it again if you want.” she offered. </p><p>“It wasn’t CBGB.” was all Dean said.</p><p>It took a second, but the way Dean looked like he’d just bared his soul to her, like he might burst into flames from embarrassment and shame even in the midst of the frigid onslaught of snow, made the vague admission crystal clear. </p><p><em>It wasn’t CBGB, </em>Claire thought as the details of the once (not so) casual anecdote rolled through her mind like a rock down a steep hill. She took out the name of the bar until the story read like a mad-lib, and there was only one noun she felt could logically fill that blank.  </p><p>Claire took a minute to process this detail and painted over the story she’d been told before with the new information, shining it in an unbearably sober light. Suddenly she felt nauseous thinking about Dean, even younger than her, being dragged out of a gay bar by the scruff of his neck. She wouldn’t even let herself think about what John did afterwards.</p><p>After a pregnant silence Claire asked, “what does this have to do with the nuns?”</p><p>“I’m not sure if it actually does have anything to do with it.” Dean admitted, grateful that she understood and that he wouldn’t have to elaborate, “But that solo hunt was only a few months later, and the whole time I couldn’t help but think-“ he took a deep breath, “I just kept wondering-“</p><p>“If it wasn’t a coincidence?” Claire finished for him.</p><p>Dean swallowed and nodded, “We’d been working the case together until we found out why they died.” He shrugged, “I couldn’t help but wonder if it was some kind of test.” Bitterness chilled his words, “<em>Everything</em> was a test with him.”</p><p>In that moment Claire knew if she could kill someone twice, it would be John Winchester, but she didn’t say that. Instead she said, “I guess your thing with Cas makes more sense now.”</p><p>“Huh?” Dean voiced his confusion.</p><p>“Well, you danced around each other for what? Ten years?” Claire asked.</p><p>“Twelve.” Dean mumbled under his breath.</p><p>“Exactly.” She shrugged, “I guess I understand the hesitation better.”</p><p>Dean was silenced by this. He’d never gotten this far into this conversation before, and now he didn’t know what to do with himself.</p><p>“Y’know,” Claire said with a tone so deceptively casual, “As fucked up as it sounds, sometimes I feel lucky Jimmy and Amelia aren’t around.”</p><p>Dean raised a brow and looked at her like that was the last thing he expected her to say.</p><p>“Especially when I’m with Kaia,” She continued, “there are times when I think to myself that they would hate me if they were here to see us. That they would hate who I am on principle.” Even Claire wasn’t sure what she was referring to—being a hunter, being gay, or both.</p><p>“Claire, that’s not true.” Dean tried to soothe.</p><p>“It is.” Claire said with a certainty and finality that made Dean shrink in on himself, like he suddenly remembered that there were other crappy fathers besides his own. Claire picked at the sleeve of her sweater. In the delicate silence that followed she could hear the low hum of the radio once more. This time she actually did know the song.</p><p>
  <em>And she’ll promise you more than the garden of Eden. Then she’ll carelessly cut you and laugh while you’re bleeding.  </em>
</p><p>“Well kid,” Dean finally said, “then it would be their loss.”</p><p>Claire smiled softly and swiped at her eyes. She wasn’t crying but you could never be too careful.</p><p>“I’m sorry your dad sucked so bad.” she offered in return.</p><p>Dean barked a startled, wet laugh. “That doesn’t matter now kiddo.” He spared her a meaningful glance, “It’s all worked out.”  </p><p>
  <em>She is frequently kind and she’s suddenly cruel. But she can do as she pleases, she’s nobody’s fool. </em>
</p><p>“I promise that next time I’m in a bind I’ll call for backup,” Claire finally resigned, “or whatever.”</p><p>Dean pursed his lips and gave an appreciative nod, “Good.”</p><p>Claire sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.</p><p>“Look,” Dean turned to her, “I know me and Cas are out of the ring more than in it these days. But you know you can always call us right?”</p><p>It was said with such sincerity, Claire couldn’t help the grin that curled on her face, “I know.” She fiddled with her sleeve some more to avoid looking over at him, “Why do you think I called you to come get me?”</p><p>“Because Jody told you to.” Dean replied, eliciting a genuine belly laugh from her. He smiled to himself, victorious.</p><p>“I don’t do everything Jody tells me,” Claire poked at him, “I’m a big girl remember?”</p><p>Dean looked ahead at the road. It was beginning to curve around a grove of pine trees he could barely make out past the snowy haze. The winter sun had dipped considerably, even in the span of less than an hour, and the streetlights hovered and glowed like lightning bugs above them.</p><p>“Look kid, I’m sorry,” Dean said with his eyes still ahead, “I know you’re an adult and you can make your own choices and all that crap.” He sighed, “I just get worried alright?”</p><p>Claire should’ve been annoyed. She should have huffed up a storm about being able to take care of herself, about not wanting to be patronized by some guy in a flannel who thought he knew best. Everything in her was screaming for her to snap her teeth like an alligator or open her jaw like a snake and swallow this man whole with her righteous, rebellious fury. To reach for his offering like a snowflake and melt it to nothing in her palm.</p><p>Instead, she smiled to herself. She couldn’t help but feel warmed by the sentiment of it.</p><p>“I know.” She mumbled, “You shouldn’t” she argued weakly.</p><p>“Sue me.” Was Dean’s reply.</p><p>That seemed to be the end of the conversation. They fell back into a companionable silence, having said enough.</p><p>The song changed, and it was once again one Claire had never heard before.</p><p>“Can I change the music?” She asked.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth, his usual reply on his lips. His instinct was to say no, that <em>the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts her cakehole</em>. That had always been his answer.</p><p>Instead he said “sure.”</p><p>Claire leaned over and turned the dial on the radio to change the channel.</p><p>It landed on something that both of them knew.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dean and the Dean-coded Dean-girl, or, a mirror looks back at itself. Song lyrics are Billy Joel “She’s Always a Woman” </p><p>I love their relationship and wish there was more of it. In the secret good version of Supernatural that lives in my head, Dean and Cas get together in the end and mutually retire, but they are still willing to help if anyone (especially Claire) needs it. </p><p>Ask me about my Dean theories @witchhazelnut on tumblr </p><p>Let me know in the comments what you think! Thanks for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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